


The Breaking Point

by Adonis3



Category: Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Betrayal, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, Eventual Smut, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Mild Smut, Self-Esteem Issues, Sexual Tension, Swearing, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-07 18:29:42
Rating: Teen And Up AudiencesNot Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8811553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adonis3/pseuds/Adonis3
Summary: Ryan and Spencer created the band, Ryan was supposed to be the singer, and Spencer his best friend. Then Brendon came along and changed it all. He became the singer, and after a few of Ryan's secrets surfaced, Brendon got his friend too.Now Ryan feels like crap, and maybe even a little mad at Brendon, but he knows it's wrong to feel that way, since he's really not to blame. Soon after, Brendon begins to flirt with him more forwardly than ever, even going so far as to confess his love, he begins to question his role in life, in the band, and his relationships.Now there's tension, and the worst part is, Ryan's the only one that can feel it developing.*  *  *It's all told in Ryan's point of view...just thought I should let you all know that.





	1. The Beginning of an Era

**Author's Note:**

> This begins in the AFYCSO era, I think it's pretty obvious. So I'm trying to make it as close to their real story, but I honestly hate research, so I'm writing what I know. any inconsistencies? Fuck it. this is a fanfic, it's not gonna be real, so yeah...I hope you enjoy it.

"Brendon," said Spencer Smith, our drummer, as he walked into his grandmother's living room and took his seat between Brent and me.

"Yeah." he replied putting down this picture of a baby Spencer that he'd been studying for the last two minutes.

"The guys and I have been discussing this for a while and well, we all agreed that you should be the lead singer." finished Spencer. Brendon stared at us questioningly for a bit, his silence was unnerving.

We were offering him my role in the band, was I hesitant to give it up? At first yeah, but it didn't take me too long to see that it's what was best for the band. Besides, my voice isn't really good anyways.

"Well if Ryan's okay with it..." Brendon's words hung in the air for half a minute, I think I had spaced out or something, Spencer nudged my shoulder bringing me back to reality.

"Huh- oh yeah, it's c- I-I'm okay with it." I said, meaning it as much as I possibly could, which at the time was about eighty percent.

"Then yeah, I'd love to be the singer."

"Alright cool!" said Spencer happy that everything went smoothly.

"So is Ryan on guitar now?" asked Brendon.

"Yeah." I said, trying to focus on creating a melody for what we later called Time to Dance.

That was two months ago.

* * *

I knocked on the door, Spencer's grandmother told me four years ago that I didn't have to that anymore, but barging into someone's house is just not something I'm comfortable with. Diana opened the door.

"Ryan sweetie, you know you can just walk in."

"I know, but it just seems rude." I said stepping inside.

"No what's rude is making an old lady like me get out of bed to answer the door." she signaled to the couch and I took my seat.

"I'm sorry, I thought Spencer would answer the door." I looked around. I'm only ever here with the guys, so it's easy to forget just how warm it is.

"Feel free to get anything."

"Sure thing." I mumbled as she walked back to her room. Spencer's grandma had always felt like a mom to me, or at least like a close aunt. Then again, I don't really know how either of those feel, all I have is my alcoholic father; sure he says he'll quit, but he's never put in a real big effort to follow through on that.

I was pulled out of the black hole that my thoughts just created by a knock at the door. I stood up and answered it, it was Brendon.

Since we gave him the lead, I haven't been alone in a room with him. I haven't been able to, not when his general presence reminds me of my own short comings. Since our switch, I've never found myself being angry at him or the guys, no, instead I've just faced and hated my own failures.

"Hey Ryan!" he beamed. I mumbled a hello. "Why do you always mumble?" I paused, his question took me by surprise. Why do I mumble?

"I don't know." he walked up to me and looked at my arm.

"What happened here?" he asked pointing to this bruise surrounded cut on my forearm that was peeking out of my shirt.

I bit my lip, pulling the sleeve down to where I had originally wanted it. He didn't know me well enough to know that someone did this to me, so I lied to him.

"I fell off a skateboard."

"Oh you skate?" every one of his questions had the same tone, innocent curiosity. It was much different from mine, my voice was soft, quiet, and monotone. Brendon has this vitality, it's something I lack.

"No, that's why I fell." he laughed.

"Oh yeah that makes sense, I skate." he stated enthusiastically.

"That's cool."

"Why do you talk like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you don't care."

"Why do you ask so many questions" this is me being fed up. He shrugged mumbling an I don't know.

"It's probably my ADHD." he said after a brief pause. I'd never noticed how hyperactive he was, but looking back and knowing this now, it explains a lot.

"Are you going to answer my question?" he asked again referring to my tone.

"Don't know, just the way I was raised I guess."

"You were raised to not care?" he scrunched up his face, trying to imagine a house hold that didn't encourage enthusiasm.

"No, I was raised to not talk and now I just don't care." it was a matter of fact statement, not a plea for attention and pity or even a passive aggressive comment, and the fact that it shut him up is just a plus.

There was another knock. "I'll get it!" he chirped seeming to forget the tension that had just been created. "Hey Spencer, hey Brent!" he looked at the ice cream in their hands, "Did you get any for us?"

"Nah, I paid for mine, he paid for his. You guys get nothing." said Spencer.

"Okay." he pouted then laughed.

"Let's just get going." I said going across the living room to get my guitar.

Ever since my dad and I had this huge fight last year I've been leaving it here. Basically, one thing led to another and he grabbed it from my room and threatened to smash it. Ever since then, keeping it at home seemed like a death sentence.

We walked to the practice room, a small room that was part of a small building that all the local ban bands use. We practiced for an hour, it could be longer but we only have two songs.

After getting the two songs down perfectly, we hung out in the practice room. I was trying to create a good melody for this song I began writing during our break, while the other guys talked. Every now and then I'd pitch in too.

"Ryan, did you get in contact with Pete Wentz?" asked Brent Wilson, our bassist, my head snapped up and instantly fell into my hands after I thought back to the event.

"I left him a link to one of our songs, but he hasn't responded. He probably just skipped over it." I mumbled.

"Nah he'll get around to it, just watch." said Brendon with this chill tone and confident smile. It was a line and a face fit for a leader. And the comparison continues, I wonder if the day will ever come when I don't feel inferior to him.

"Yeah...I'm sure that's what'll happen." I took in a sharp breath and went back to playing the guitar.

"I like that one." said Spencer.

"This?" I asked playing the melody again.

"Yeah that's good, what song is it for?" asked Brendon.

"I don't know yet." I answered. So far we only have two songs, this will be our third.


	2. The Annoying Things, The Sweet Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> why am I such an asshole?
> 
> * * *  
> It was a warm one, reserved just for Spence, but today two other people saw it without me wanting them to. I guess that's what happens when you get swept up in a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm...I should have waited before posting this, but I'm an impulsive person. Terrible for me, but for you guys it's great, unless I make some horrible mistake and it goes unnoticed...Please don't let it go unnoticed.

"Ryan, Ryan, Ryan." whispered Brendon. I was trying to read this book. "Ryan."

"Yes, Brendon?" I asked through clenched teeth.

"Have you heard from Pete yet?"

"No." why can't I talk to him the way I do everyone else.

"How long has it been?" he asks so many questions, this one particularly, puts a sinking feeling in my stomach.

"Two weeks." after saying it aloud, I couldn't hide my disappointment, it was so obvious that Brendon felt obligated to comfort me.

"Don't be so upset, it hasn't been that long. I'm sure he'll give some feedback, I give it another two weeks, max." there it is, that unwavering positivity. How, how does he keep it up? I just can't see how anyone could be like that. Even when he's on his own, just thinking, he looks happy letting out a laugh every now and then.

"I'm bored." he whispered.

"Then read a book." I suggested.

"I don't like reading though." I sighed exhausted, and put my book down, rubbing my eyes in an attempt to relax.

"Then why did you come?"

"Well because I like you," I stared at him surprised, he caught me off guard... again "and ever since we switched, we haven't really talked. I mean we talk all the time, but only about the band and the music. You don't talk to me the way you do to Spencer, or even Brent."

"Uh...I don't know what you want me to say here Brendon."

"You don't have to say anything, I just want to make sure you're okay. Yeah you said you were okay, but that was two months ago. I thought, maybe you thought it over and regretted the decision. Although I don't see how we could go back now, because the songs were written with my voice in mind, and I'm pretty sure you sent the demos with my singing." he rambled thoughtlessly, "Sorry, I just wanted to say that you should talk more about your thoughts on the change." I nodded.

"Even if I were to talk about it, it wouldn't be with you." why am I such an asshole?

"That's fine." he was nodding, he had this peaceful smile on his face. "Just tell someone. I let out everything that weighs me down and I feel great." he finished with a big smile, dropping his arms on to his lap.

"Hmm...is that your secret?" I chuckled.

"Secret?" he scoffed. He's a very animated talker.

"Never mind." I smirked.

I went back to reading the book and Brendon went back to tapping the table, shaking his leg, looking around the store, and just receding into his thoughts. But he could only do that for so long.

"I thought you were supposed to do homework." he said, and I groaned.

"I'll do it later."

"Don't you have morning classes tomorrow?"

"Why can't you leave me alone?" I whined.

"Do I talk too much?" he asked with a smile, like he was daring me to answer honestly.

"Yes." he laughed.

"My parents and siblings say that too. They actually spend a lot of time telling me to calm down, be quiet, or to leave them alone. But that was more when I was younger. I think I've gotten better." I put the book down.

"I think...I'm gonna do my homework now. Do you have any?"

"Yeah."

"Great, then you can work on yours while I work on mine." Brendon sighed.

* * *

"Ryan?" called Spencer from the living room, we're in my house today.

"Yeah?" I said closing the fridge.

"Do you ever plan on showing us the last song? We learned how to play it, but you never showed Brendon the lyrics, actually you haven't shown anyone."

"Oh yeah...I didn't." Brent and Brendon were now staring at me along with Spencer, I grabbed my guitar and my folder "Alright Brendon come to the kitchen, I'll help you sing it." I sighed.

"Okay."

I sat on the table and handed him the lyrics. I can't help but feel exposed as he reads, it's not even the first time he reads one of my songs, why's it so nerve racking this time?

"Hey, where's your dad?" asked Brendon, handing back the paper.

"He's working late today." I looked at the lyrics, writing in the title.

Brendon leaned towards me and looked over my shoulder, and asked "Camisado? Why that?" I shrugged.

"It just feels right." I wonder if Brendon really doesn't understand the lyrics, or if he pretends not to. I guess either one is comforting, I don't know what I'd do if I was confronted with them. Sometimes I'm even happy I'm not the one performing them.

An hour later, Brendon and I were sitting with the rest of the guys, trying to get a successful run through of the song.

"That was great, but I just want to make a quick change." the guys looked at me expectantly, "The beginning, I think it should be slower, Brendon maybe sing it more quietly. Just the first verse though." they all nodded, they always listened to my suggestions and gave them a shot. At least once, maybe they think they owe it to me.

We practiced for another hour, trying to perfect this song, before I looked at the clock. "Oh crap it's already seven!"

"Do you want us to leave?" asked Spencer, leave it to him to understand me.

"Yeah." I said cleaning everything up. "Oh take my guitar wi-" I turned to see him already holding it, with out thinking, I smiled. It was a warm one, reserved just for Spence, but today two other people saw it without me wanting them to. I guess that's what happens when you get swept up in a moment.

He smiled back in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I have a general idea of where this is going, I just hope I can execute it correctly. That aside, I'd love to hear your guys' opinions...I need that good validation 0-0


	3. Pete-Freaking-Wentz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What time is it?" whined Brendon, slouching to the point that he slid off his seat. His impatience has been increasing since we got here, after all, Pete said he'd be here at four thirty, and it's now four fifty-two.
> 
> * * *
> 
> I'm going to get somewhere in life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this story is slow right now, but I just wanna set it up right. After all, it's all about the time during recording, you know when they were all living together in a one bedroom apartment. Yeah, I did my research. I have no life...I'll just let myself out.

It's five thirty in the evening, we're all in my room.

"How's the job going Brendon?" asked Brent.

"It's good, since I started singing I've been getting more tips. It's pretty fun."

They continued talking, about school, their friends, girls, and just general high school stuff. I've been sat at my desk waiting for a message to arrive, I've been doing this every day during my free time ever since I sent the demos to Pete Wentz.

"Oh my god..." I whispered.

"What?" asked Spencer walking up behind me to get a better look at the computer screen. He covered his mouth throwing himself back, laughing in disbelief.

"Guys, he's coming." I managed to say through my excitement. Brent and Brendon both stood up rushing over to me. "Oh my...this is..." my voice, it's the most emotion it's shown in nine years.

"What'd I tell you Ryan?" he said shaking me by my shoulders. I chuckle, because right now, I'm too happy to think, let alone compare myself to him.

Because tomorrow, Pete Wentz, my hero, is coming to listen to us.

It's now eight p.m., the guys have left and I'm alone, I think the reality of the situation has finally set in because I'm no longer excited about meeting Pete, I'm worried about being criticized by him. What if he doesn't like us? What if he doesn't like our sound, or worse, doesn't like the words? My words. The words I spent hours piecing together, making sure they said exactly what I wanted them to say, expressed what I couldn't vocally. What if he spits on my work, completely shatters me...would he even realize he did that?

I'm beginning to feel the panic set in. I'm not going to get any sleep tonight. Not going to get any homework done either...my world is falling apart and I haven't even met him yet.

* * *

We're in our practice space, waiting for Pete Wentz to arrive. My heart is racing, my foot's shaking, and I've bit my nails to the nub. Okay, not all of them, not any of them actually, after realizing that nail biting was my worst yet most fixable habit, I trained myself to stop chewing them one finger at a time which left me with my thumbs. So I've chewed my thumbs to the nub.

The guys have been talking excitedly amongst each other for the last thirty minutes, and I've just been sitting here silently freaking out and face palming myself. Why can't I be more like them? More...normal.

"Hey Ryan?" said Spencer as he walked towards me, placing his hands on the arm rests of the chair I was on so he was leaning right over me.

"Yeah?" I asked in a volume of what is almost a whisper.

"I know how nerve racking this must be for you, so I just wanted to let you know that no matter how this turns out, I'm with you on this. Like I've always been." I smiled at him, I don't know if it was to make him feel better, or myself.

There are times when I catch myself thinking things like, 'if Spencer wasn't so god damn straight I'd marry him' and I wonder if that means I like him, but I stop these thoughts because I know we could never be anything more than friends.

Maybe in another life, things would be different.

"Yeah." I mumble, he knows I'm grateful, he also knows I've never been good at expressing that.

* * *

"What time is it?" whined Brendon, slouching to the point that he slid off his seat. His impatience has been increasing since we got here, after all, Pete said he'd be here at four thirty, and it's now four fifty-two.

"Five." I said pulling my hand away from my face.

"Why don't we just keep playing until he gets here?" suggested Spencer.

"Anything to pass the time." mumbled Brendon.

Spence handed me my guitar, and I, reluctantly stood up to join them. "Brendon your still not singing it right." I commented, it's the same line over, and over again.

"What's wrong with it?"

"The line is 'sit back, relax, sit back relapse'," I stress out relax and relapse, "is it really that hard for you to get it through your brain?" I continue, knowing full well that I sound like a jerk right now, but I can't help it.

"Sorry, I just get them mixed up sometimes, they just sound so similar."

"Well work on it." I can't shut it off, my tone is neutral, like always, but the words certainly get the point across.

"Okay..." said Brendon, clearly confused by my new behavior.

"Alright, let's try again." there was a knock at the door, making us all snap our heads to look at it in anticipation. My legs are becoming jelly.

Spencer went to open the door, the owner of the building was standing there with Pete next to him.

"He with you?" he asked pulling the cigarette out of his mouth.

"Yeah." replied.

Pete walked into the room, "Thank you sir." he said politely as the man walked away.

"Hey guys," he went around shaking everyone's hands, "so which one of you is Ryan?" My breath hitched.

I stood staring at him silently for what must have been a very awkward ten seconds, before Brendon stepped in agreeing for me.

"Yeah this is Ryan" he patted my back, and I stiffened in discomfort "that's Brent, this is Spencer, and I'm Brendon." he had this huge smile, like he did every day, it never suited him. Not with his current look.

He looks like he should be more serious, and brooding, but he's not, he's happy and playful and excitable. It's weird.

"Alright!" said Pete, "So, how do you guys want to this?"

"Well, we figured we could perform a couple songs and let you decide." said Spencer. He sounds like he was walking on egg shells.

"Yeah sure uh...when you're ready." he said taking his seat, which was really just the first empty chair he saw.

We stood in our places, our instruments in our hands. I can feel how stiff I look right now. I can feel my face heating up right now, we start playing and ten seconds into 'Time To Dance' I dropped my guitar pick.

Everything stopped. Well if my face wasn't red before, it definitely is now. The guys were looking at me, their eyes were saying 'get your shit together!' and Pete's eyes were displaying pity. Everyone's nervous, but I'm the only one who manages to fuck shit up.

"Uh…" my words and movements were interrupted by my never ending thoughts of self-hatred. I blinked rapidly, as if that would do anything to clear my mind.

"Here you go." said Brendon, he had my guitar pick in his hand. How the hell am I supposed to do this in front of a hundred or so people, when I can't even play it to one person. This is a sign. "Ryan!"

His words snapped me out of my thoughts and I looked at him more directly, taking the pick from him. "Sorry…" I mumbled, shaking my head. We got back in our positions, I could see Spencer shoot me a worried look.

After that, we performed the song without a hitch, except, I refused to look up. When we finished performing 'Nails for Breakfast, Tacks for Snacks', the guys and I shared a look. Were we really ready to perform 'Camisado'? Doesn't matter what I think, they already started playing it. What gave them this confidence? I decided to look around, my eyes landing on Pete…he likes it.

* * *

"Alright, I think I'd like to sign you guys." I could feel everyone release the breath they'd been holding since Pete freaking Wentz walked in.

He shook all our hands and walked out.

Joy washed over me and the rest of the guys, we jumped out of excitement and hugged one another. This is the happiest I've been in a long time. I'm going to get somewhere in life.

The weight of the world has been lifted, I have a direction. A purpose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this, feel free to leave comments and/or Kudos, I love the attention.


	4. The One to be Sober For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was pulled out of my thoughts by a knock at the door, I sigh because I really don't want to get up.
> 
> * * *
> 
> "Phoe- there's a Phoebe?" I asked, surprised, and no not the good kind. Then again no surprise has ever been the good kind.
> 
> * * *
> 
> "Was it your dad?"

End of March

It's been a week since Pete Wentz stopped by, he said he'd be back in another week so we could work out the paper work and see if we can come up with something that will work for both sides. I've been feeling great about it, like nothing can bring me down.

I was pulled out of my thoughts by a knock at the door, I sigh because I really don't want to get up. I roll off my bed, prolonging the amount of time I spend not standing. I ran down the stairs, making sure to be quiet, it's my dad's day off, he probably has a hangover, I don't need him getting up to yell at me for having company I didn't invite. It's not Spence that's for sure, he knows better than to come over when my dad's here. I opened the door, and saw a very…happy Brendon.

"Ryan!" he greeted, sounding surprised.

"Shhh!"

"Oh sorry are your parents sleeping?"

"You know I only live with my dad right?"

"Uh…yeah." he said, clearly lying to not seem like an idiot, "Can I go in." he said already setting foot inside.

"Uh no!" Brendon looked at me, shocked by my urgency. "No. Let's just go out." I said, calmer this time.

"You wanna go out?" he asked with a smirk, "I gotta say I'm flattered." I rolled my eyes, pushed him back slightly, stepping outside with him and closing the door behind us.

"What do you want Brendon?"

"Nothing I just wanted to hang out with someone, and well, Brent got a Saturday school and Spencer's spending the day with…well you know." he said suggestively.

"Uh, no I actually don't."

"With Phoebe."

"Phoe- there's a Phoebe?" I asked, surprised, and no not the good kind. Then again no surprise has ever been the good kind.

"Yeah." he said as if Phoebe was a well known fact.

"So…she's like…?"

"His girlfriend?" he suggested, I nodded, "Yeah. He really didn't tell you?" I shook my head in response, I'm at a loss for words. Spencer has never not told me about things like this. I mean we tell each other everything. Well, I haven't told him I'm gay, but aside from that everything. "Ryan?" I looked up at him, trying to hide any of the hurt I was feeling, "I'm sure he has his reasons, he'll get around to telling you, just give him the chance. So…let's head out?"

"Let me get changed."

*  *  *

"So, where are we going?" I asked. We've been walking down eighth street for twenty minutes, we're just about to reach the shopping center. You know, the only places Brendon can be around in freaking Las Vegas. Is it weird to be a college student, hanging out with a bunch of high school kids?

"Woah Ryan, don't sound too excited. Wouldn't want people to think you're enjoying yourself." he joked, making himself laugh.

"That's true, I actually want to get away from this kind of torture. I'll be sure to tone it down."

"Now that was just rude." I let out a small scoff, something I did often to avoid laughing or smiling. "Have you eaten?"

"Not yet."

"Great. Then let's go get some food."

*  *  *

Brendon and I ate breakfast, walked around some shops, I bought myself an "ugly" dark brown vest with intricate, nature like designs. He bought a yellow, orange, and brown tie with a similar pattern. I told Brendon I had to stop by the grocery store, and he decided to tag along.

"So, why didn't we just get stoned and lay in the grass?" I asked

"Well, sometimes you just meet that someone you want to be sober around. You know what I mean?" he looked serious, and pensive, or at least more than usual. His brain, mouth, and body are usually in ten different places at once, so maybe he's just at normal human levels right now.

"I suppose…" I replied. That's how I feel about Spencer.

"Your hair's getting really long you know?" he was back to being his usual energetic, bouncy self. I reached for my hair, chin length up front, and shoulder length in the back.

"I know." I mumbled, "Spencer thinks it's time I get it cut."

"You talk a lot about Spencer when he's gone. And your hair, it's fine like that, leave it if you like it. Unless you agree with him, in that case just cut it."

"Hmm…I don't really care, I mean, it's just hair after all." I ignored his first statement, because it has no relevance.

*  *  *

"...and then I got grounded for what _he_ did!" he laughed at his story, which from what I heard, was funny? I spaced out on it though, so I just try my best to mirror his expression. "I mean, can you believe that?" he chuckled.

"Hah yeah…" I opened the door to my house, and turned to look at Brendon once more. "Bye Brendon."

"B-" his sentence was cut off by me shutting the door in his face.

"Dad?" I asked quietly. When there was no response, I stepped into the kitchen, still being careful to avoid making any loud noises.

I'm an adult, I shouldn’t be scared of my dad anymore. So why am I still acting like his maid? In a few days, this won't matter anymore, I'll be gone, and I'll be doing what I love, with the person I care most about in this world.

*  *  *

Wednesday

"What the hell man." I muttered as I applied some foundation on my face to cover up the fresh bruise that I tried to imagine it was just a stain, a smudge. Something that came from rolling around in the mud, or cooking, and not from my dad, a man I'm supposed to trust. My eyes begin to water, but I blink to keep them away, because I refuse to let him have this effect on me. He's always just left one major injury, never more, often less.

Sometimes I wish he would take it to an extreme, so I could really hate him, and not feel guilty, but it's not like that. He just gets home drunk, I piss him off one way or another, usually trying to sober him up, and then he starts throwing a tantrum. He'll grab the things nearest to him and throw them aimlessly, same with his arms. So, no, I can't hate him, he doesn't do it on purpose, or out of malice, and he always cries afterwards.

And sober, sober he's just mad, when's the last time I saw him sober? It's been a while. He yells a lot, that's why I can't have friends over, I can't go through that again. Sober he's mad, drunk he's mad and stupid. At least drunk he feels, more like expresses, guilt and regret.

I walked out of the house once I was sure the bruise was well hidden, I didn't have class, this is my first time walking out today, band practice.

*  *  *

"Ryan, you're late." said Brendon as I walked through the door, there's no anger or annoyance in his voice, he's just stating the obvious, like always.

"Yeah, I know." I muttered, quickly, I know I sound annoyed. Brendon is a nice guy, but I can't with him, he just…bugs me. This isn't about the band, or him being more talented, it's something else. I can't put my finger on it, and that's what's killing me.

"Ryan?" he said intrigued by something. I turned around to look a him.

"What?" I asked, working to keep a steady voice.

"Are you wearing makeup?" he asked, scrunching up his face. I can feel it, the lump in my throat, the next words to leave my mouth won't be pretty. It could be the meaning, or the weakness in my voice. Either way I'll be giving something away. I reached for a water bottle, it's the most natural way I can manage to turn my back on them.

"Yeah." I can feel my lip tremble, and can only thank my self for turning around when I did. I take a sip from the bottle, "Just wanted to try it, you know?"

"Well, it suits the eyeliner." he chuckled, and I gave a small, awkward smile that no one can see. Supposedly if you smile more, you'll be happy, but I really only smile when I'm happy. Except for when I'm around Brendon, I feel like I have to pretend to be happy around him, and I don't know why.

"Was it your dad?" whispered Spencer. I jumped because I didn't notice him walking over to me.

"Jesus, Spencer!" I hissed, putting my hand to my heart. I looked at him for a second, but after struggling to keep them open and on him I looked down at my water bottle again.

 "Did he?" he asked more sternly, making sure to keep his voice low. Spencer has been speculating ever since I was thirteen and my dad gave me a bloody nose, he caught me cleaning myself up in my front yard. I told him I wanted to see if I could still walk around my house if I went blind, the answer was no. I think if I hid my panic about my dad better, he would have dropped it.

 "This isn't the place for your crazy theories, Spence." I mumbled. Spencer and I let the tension settle, before stepping away from each other and practicing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First time Ryan's dad is actually discussed, even if it was mostly the narration, but still. I didn't make him absolutely horrible, because I wanted to make believable(?) that Ryan would write songs about him. I hope most of you enjoyed it, as always I'd love to hear your thoughts and corrections. Please, PLEASE tell me if there are any mistakes. Anyways, until next time.


	5. A Lack of Support

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Are you sure you don't want to tell your dad?" asked Spencer, he was rubbing my shoulder comfortingly. I still can't look at him, I can't tell if it's because he didn't tell me about phoebe, or if it's simply because there is a Phoebe.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Brendon and I moved on to talk about the better things in life, movies, music, T.V. shows, and I found myself being happy about agreeing to hang out with Brendon, because as it turns out, when I'm not comparing myself to him, he's a great guy, dedicated to making people smile, laugh, and lose control in all the right ways.
> 
> * * *
> 
> "Ryan!" he said sternly, his voice on edge, letting me know I was pushing it too far. "I am your father-I'm looking out for your best interest-I am owed some respect."

April

It's Friday night, the guys and I are meeting Pete in our practice space. The they all had to talk to their parents about this, because they're all minors. All of them flipped to a certain degree, but let them go through with it anyways. I'm signing the papers, that's all there is to it.

"Are you sure you don't want to tell your dad?" asked Spencer, he was rubbing my shoulder comfortingly. I still can't look at him, I can't tell if it's because he didn't tell me about phoebe, or if it's simply because there _is_ a Phoebe.

"I'm sure." Spencer sighed, he's not with me on this, a slight feeling of panic washes over me, but I talk through it. "Look once the papers are signed and there's no way out of it, I'll tell him."

"Ryan-" he stopped, and instead patted my shoulder and dropped the subject all together.

*  *  *

We signed onto Decay Dance Records, as planned, and celebrated together. Nothing big, just shared a couple blunts.

*  *  *

"Happy Birthday, Brendon." I mumbled handing him the present I'd bought, mostly out of obligation. Spencer got him one, so did Brent, I wasn't about to be the cheap bastard who refused to give Mr. Nice Guy a birthday present.

"Thanks Ryan, but you know, eighteen isn't just a good thing for me. I'm legal now." he shot me wink, laughing, and assuring me that he was in fact making a joke.

*  *  *

Late April

I held the phone in my hand, anxiously awaiting for someone on the other side to pick up and greet me.

"Hello?" said Spencer, "Ryan."

"Hey Spence, you wanna hang out."

"You realize it's ten at night, right?"

"Yeah." I breathed out. My foot was shaking violently, I stretched my neck, peering around the corner, making sure my dad was still asleep. "I just figured…well, it's been a while since we hung out."

"Ryan, are you okay? You sound…shaken up?"

"Yeah, of course I'm fine." I scoffed.

"Alright." he sighed, "You wanna just come over?"

"Yeah." we said our goodbyes, and I hung up, rushing over to the door picking up my shoes on the way out. There was a breeze outside, why is it so blazing hot in the day, but fuckin freezing at night, stupid desert weather. I shivered, if anyone was there, they'd take quick notice of it. I put my shoes on and, with out meaning to, practically ran to Spencer's house.

*  *  *

Is home, really home? It can't be when Spence's house offers more warmth and comfort, when even a random thrift shop feels more welcoming, and gives me peace and clarity. I guess my 'home' now, is just a place to live until I move onto the next chapter of my life.

"So you told your dad?" asked Spencer, handing me a glass of water and taking his seat next to me on the couch.

"No. why do you ask that?"

"Don't know, you just sounded kinda freaked, I figured you told him and he didn't take it well."

"Oh no, I didn't mean to sound nervous, must be the excitement." I mumbled, my eyes scanning the room as I did. He hummed in response, probably nodding slowly for emphasis.

"When's the last time we hung out alone?" he asked, a small chuckle escaping his lips.

"It's been a while." I whispered, afraid to admit it's slightly over a month. "Hey, how's school?"

"Good, how's it going with you?"

"I'm dropping out." his eyes widened, but he didn't ask why, he knew. We're signed, I don't have a need for it, I didn't even have a major. We looked at each other, and offered our classically warm smiles. Something that was given, only from one to the other, everyone else excluded from this bond, going on it's eleventh year.

Phoebe. Her name flashes in my mind, instinctively I break the connection. I wonder what smile he gives her? I want to ask, but Brendon said I should wait for him to tell me. Since when did I listen to Brendon? The moment he started making sense I suppose. I refocused on Spencer, he looks confused, it's subtle because he's holding back. Neither of us has the right to go off on the other right now. I can't call him out on Phoebe, and he can't call me out on, what I can only describe as, my aloofness. There's a wall, it's weak, but neither of us are fighting hard to knock it down, so it might as well be the Great Wall.

"Something's been eating at me lately." he began.

"Oh yeah? What is it?"

"You've never liked Brendon."

"Yeah, so?" there was a pause, I kept my half smile, "Why bring it up now?"

"Well, I feel like you've been hanging out with him more than me recently, what's up with that?" he chuckled, mostly to avoid sounding like a jealous girlfriend, and more like someone who is genuinely curious to the reasons someone would spend time with someone they only tolerate.

"Don't know. The guy just clings to me, I guess." that's really the best way I can describe it, I've never initiated contact, he either invites me or tags along to my events. "Clings to everyone really, he's social, let's leave it at that."

"I still think you're jealous of him." he joked, but the mere suggestion made me nervous.

Spence and I continued talking like that for another thirty minutes, until we went to his room to play some video games. I spent the night there after falling asleep somewhere around two thirty.

*  *  *

Row, row, row your boat- stupid song. This always happens, the stupidest songs get stuck in my head whenever I try to clear my mind. Last week, Spencer told me now would be a good time to tell my dad I'm dropping out of school and heading off with the guys to be in a 'professional' band. Just thinking about it makes my heart race with absolute dread.

I should try to keep busy. It's hard around here though, there aren't any books I can read and my dad didn't pay the cable bill. The only things to watch are pbs and the news, and nobody wants that negativity around.

I need something positive, something to distract me until my dad gets home. I'll just head to the library.

As soon as the thought hit my mind, the phone rang. I walked over to it, "Hello?" I spoke softly into the phone.

"Hey!" said an over joyed Brendon, how did he know I needed something positive? "I'm bored, you wanna hang out?" I let out a puff of air.

"Sure, I'll meet you at the park?" I suggested.

"Yeah, see you there." I hung up the phone, put my shoes on, and walked out the door. Within fifteen minutes I was at the park, taking my seat in front of Brendon on one of the benches.

"You sounded kinda down on the phone, something wrong?" he asked after a moment of silence.

"Not really, just nervous." I said with a shrug. Brendon was focused on us, the moment, though his body moved, fingers tapping and leg shaking. I was looking out into the distance, trying to gather my thoughts.

"What about?" he asked with a chuckle, like he struggled to understand the feeling of being nervous.

"Telling my dad about dropping out." I sighed. Then groaned, "He's gonna kill me." I hunched over myself, taking a moment to really feel the shit storm I was walking into.

"Will he really be mad?"

"No Brendon, I've waited this long to tell him because I hate seeing him happy." I retorted. Brendon looked at me like I was an alien before giving a smile that hid way too many things for my liking. "What's with the smile?"

"Nothing." he said, changing his smile to a mocking one, "Have you asked Spencer about Phoebe?"

"Course not." I looked to the ground, to avoid showing any malice my eyes might have in them. I know now, Phoebe is as much an issue as the secret, but that's because I don't know her. It's not like it matters, Brendon will graduate in two weeks, we'll be moving on to work on our album, and Phoebe will be left behind, a distant memory.

"Do you like, like Spencer?" my eyes widened in shock and confusion, because, where the hell was this coming form? "Cause that would suck if you did, he's always saying you're like his best friend, like his brother, and lately I've been getting the feeling that you don't see him like that. I mean, I'm wrong, right? Spencer's definitely straight and as far as I know you are too, so it wouldn't make sense, especially with _Spencer_." I frowned slightly at the disturbed tone he took when he said Spencer.

"What's wrong with Spencer?" I ask, trying to sound the least defensive I could manage at the moment.

"Well nothing's _wrong_ with Spencer, just the idea of you two, like _together_." clearly Brendon was bothered by the idea of me and Spencer shacking up, but why does it bother me that he thinks that.

"Well be thankful it'll never happen."

"But do you like him?"

"Do you ever drop things?" I let out an annoyed sigh.

"No, and by not answering you're really making me think you do."

"I don't know what I feel, I've been numb to a lot of things lately, Spencer seems to be the exception." Brendon studied my face for a sign of…I don't know, hesitance, but that was the most honest answer I could give. Spencer makes me feel safe and warm, whether that's anything romantic, I'm too scared to explore.

"Can we move on? You were supposed to be something positive." Brendon let out a breathy laugh.

"Okay." there was a pause, like we were letting the previous topic clear out. "So does this mean you are gay?"

"Would you have a problem with it if I was?"

"No." he shrugged, so I nodded, verbal acceptance is too real.

Brendon and I moved on to talk about the better things in life, movies, music, T.V. shows, and I found myself being happy about agreeing to hang out with Brendon, because as it turns out, when I'm not comparing myself to him, he's a great guy, dedicated to making people smile, laugh, and lose control in all the right ways.

"You should skate with me sometime." he said suddenly, how does he do it, we've been together three hours with no awkward silences. He never runs out of things to talk about.

"I don't skate." I'm such a drag to be around, how does he manage to be around me this long? Spencer's the only other guy who withstands my presence this long.

"Right the…" he tapped his forearm, reminding me of the lie I told, "still you should join me. I promise I won't let you fall." he said, sounding too close to a guy trying to pick up a hot girl at a bar. I chuckled, at his mocking of the hetero male species.

"Well with confidence like that who could say no." I deadpanned.

"Is that a yes?" he queried, I closed my eyes and nodded.

"It's six thirty, I think I'm a go home now."

"I'll walk you."

"You know, I'm older, I should technically be walking you home." I snorted.

"With a paper thin body like yours? I think your more susceptible to the dangers of da hood than me." he said throwing up fake gang signs.

"God, you're such a spaz." I said, visibly cringing at his horrible actions. He simply let out this choked, high pitch giggle.

"If it weren't for this spaz, you'd still be down about the stuff with your dad." he smirked.

I stopped Brendon at the fence, because I could see my dad's car and didn't want to risk making a scene in front of him. As I stepped inside, I could see my dad opening up his second bottle of beer. I take in a deep breath to remove any tremors that may try to make their way out into the real world. I walked up to him, meeting his eyes. 

"Dad." I rushed out, he hummed in response as he put the bottle to his lips, "I'm dropping out of college." I said, just loud enough for him to hear. He quickly swallowed his drink and set the bottle down.

"What?" he almost shouted.

"My band got signed, I'm going to work on that full time. So-"

"No." he made it sound final, a nonnegotiable statement.

"What?" I asked, sounding just as outraged as he had when he asked the same thing. His answer was expected, but hearing it still disappointed me, this wasn't going to be like other times, where I just obeyed. If I only get one thing in life, I want this.

"No. I'm not gonna let you ruing your future like that." he said sternly.

"I'm not ruining my future! I'm improving it." I tried sounding strong, but my stupid voice made it impossible. Everything sounds like a monotonous mumble from a boring history professor.

"No you're not. Ryan, you aren't made for that life." one side of his mouth tilted up, "You don't have the energy, or charisma-" he's pussyfooting around it.

"You mean I don't have the talent?"

"Well, I was trying _not_ to say it, but yeah, Ryan. You don't have talent." I looked down at the floor, angry at him for thinking that, maybe he was right, but he could've- I don't know! Denied it. It's what any other parent would do. "Look Ryan, I just don't want to see you disappointed." he said, trying to sound more sympathetic.

"Then maybe you should stop drinking." I said coldly. He grabbed my arm tightly.

"Ryan!" he said sternly, his voice on edge, letting me know I was pushing it too far. "I am your father-I'm looking out for your best interest-I am owed some respect." that word, _owed_ , it lit a fire in my stomach, because of all the stupid things he's said at stupid times, he chose this moment of belittlement and I snapped. I tore my arm away from him.

"For what? For drinking everyday? For yelling at me whenever I wanted to tell you about my day? Or how about when you cursed me out in front of all my friends in seventh grade? Or better yet, the days that'd go by without so much as a slice of bread for dinner?" I shouted at him, my voice cracking from being pushed too far, "Or what about the bruises and cuts? Should I give you respect for that?" I spat out, a couple tears ran down my face, "What right do you have to say, that _I_ have no talent? When's the last time you paid attention to _anything_ I did? Hmm?" I asked accusingly, without seeing anything, I felt a sharp sting across my left cheek. It made my face turn, and I let it fall, so I wouldn't have to look at him.

"When will you be out?" he asked calmly.

"By tomorrow."

"You go through with it, don't comeback." he grabbed his drinks and walked to his room, "And Ryan, when you fail, don't expect me to let you back in here." this is coming from his pain and anger, right? Like, he doesn't mean it, and right before I leave, he'll realize how unfair he's being and apologize? Is this that, or are these his honest feelings?

"And if I succeed?" I ask, my voice shaking from anger and anxiousness.

"Don't get your hopes up kid." I can feel my heart drop, and a lump form in my throat. What is it about my parents and that word 'kid', they say it to those they're cutting out of our lives. I went to my room packing my things, ready to leave the very next day.

*  *  *

Three hours later, my dad walked into my room, drunk as usual. I jolted up with fear and sighed, getting out of bed and turning on the light so he wouldn't fall and injure himself.

"Ryan?" he slurred.

"Yeah?" I mumbled

"You knuh I luove you right?" I nodded, "Thas why I te-you these things. You-Ryan-aren't a good singer."

"I'm not the singer."

"Good, good, cuz tha wou be a disaster. You SUCK at sig-ning." I let out an annoyed sigh, they say drunks are the most honest people in the world, next to small children. "Also, guitar, you? No! you're meh!"

"Can you get out?"

"Shh! Ryan, dote be rude. You have to face it, you've nevrr rrreeally been good at-at _anything_. Nothing."

"Dad, just leave me alone." he just made me feel even worse than I did the first time he told me these things.

"You weren't eben good at-at-well-talking! You always mumble, and stutter and fumblr o'er your words. Who does that? Only you. Because you-you just _suck._ You fail at e'erythin at some point. Wouldn't be suprised if you were failing a class now." I laughed dryly, because I actually was, and also to keep from crying. "You know, I never tol you dis, but your mom-yeah? You know your mom? I told her to take you, because I didn want you, but she wouldn't take you. She didn't want you either." and that's the cherry on the shit cake.

"Bye dad." I said putting on a jacket and grabbing my suitcase.

"But I'm not done!" he pouted. He followed me as I walked out the bedroom door.

"I've heard enough!"

"I was the only reason she touched you." he rushed out the jumbled mess, "She couldn' look at you for two months after you were born." I paused at the door, "She almost aborted you, I talked her out of it." he laughed bitterly, "Tha was a mistake." I winced at his words and stepped out. "She never said she loved you, or looked at you warmly." I tried covering my ears but the suitcase made it impossible. "She said you were poison! Diseased!"

That was the last thing I heard, he may have shouted some other things that I just ran away from, because- well would you listen to that? Those aren't lies a drunk comes up with, I never knew I was hated so much. I let out a bitter chuckle, that got louder and louder, tears streamed down my face. I looked like a complete maniac. Tears fell out, but I continued to laugh, it was dark, and probably the loudest I'd laughed in months. I've been an anchor since before I was born, what a role to take on, the guy that drags _everyone_ down.

Fuck this place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was I too dramatic? I don't know, let me know what you think. I really hope you guys liked it, uh...there were some edits I wanted to make, but my mind is crap and forgot what those edits were and ended up not making them so here you go. Please let me know if anything seems off. Also I need a beta reader, if anyone would like to fill that role let me know, and it doesn't have to be for this story it can be for any of my works. So, thanks for reading, as always, take care my lovelies(^_^)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "And he just kicked you out?" Spencer sounded absolutely disturbed,
> 
> * * *
> 
> "Alright, I'll bite, what problems does Brendon Urie have?"
> 
> * * *
> 
> I smiled at him, it's something I've been doing more often.

I've been going back and forth on the comments made about my mom, how it must be true because not once has my dad lied to me while drunk, and how it can't be true because…it's my mom. She must've loved me, she talked to me, smiled at me, held me when I was sad. Not once had she said she loved me, but I felt it, I felt something coming from her, it must've been love. I loved- _ love _ -her I can't believe my dad, not this time.

"And he just kicked you out?" Spencer sounded absolutely disturbed, I nodded and he let out a disappointed sigh. "That sucks, there anything I can do?"

"A place to sleep's more than enough."

"Are you sure you don't-"

"I've said all I needed to say." I said interrupting him, "Let's just move on."

*  *  *

There's nothing like watching the clouds to make me forget the piece of crap that is life right now. Spencer's to my right, we used to do this a lot more in eleventh, well he was in tenth, I was a junior. It works wonders, having him here next to me. Laying down and pretending the other person isn't right next to you, while being completely comforted by their presence.

"Do you think we're making the right choices, Ry?" asked Spencer, interrupting the serenity of the situation..

"What do you mean?" I asked, propping myself up on my elbow.

"Like, d'you think music's the way to go?" he clarified, turning his head look at me, and I him.

"At this point? I think it has to be." I chuckled dryly, turning my head to once more look at the lazy clouds.

*  *  *

Late May

A while has passed, it took a while, but I realized that Brendon never wanted to make me feel insignificant. He just, naturally outshines me. He's nice, he loses focus on a lot of things, but he has a deep passion for music and that's really all I can ask of him. He's high energy, which stresses me out sometimes, but I find myself happy around him, it's contagious. He tries to be close to me, like a real friend, but for some reason I keep him at an arm's length. He always knows what I'm thinking, it's unnatural, it worries me, and I don't know how to deal with that part of him, the one that sees, but can't understand.

Brendon invited me to hangout, again, we laid down on the bench tables. It wasn't the most comfortable place, but it beat the trash covered ground.

"I graduate in a week." said Brendon, a huge smile on his face. "To think, just three months ago, I thought I would flunk out." I shot up, using my arm to hold up my body.

"Really?" I questioned, "A band geek like you?" I teased.

"Yup." he nodded, "Even band geeks like me got a lot on their plate Ryan, heck I almost left the band." he chuckled, there was this disbelief in his voice, the pleasantly surprised kind.

"Alright, I'll bite, what problems does Brendon Urie have?" my tone wasn't the slightest bit serious, but he wasn't bothered by it. He laughed at my smug nature, and took a breath in.

"Uh…I got kicked out of my house about four months ago," my face dropped, but he continued smiling, "well not really, it was more suggested than anything." he chuckled through his nose.

"Why?" I asked, not able to see how he could take this so lightly.

"I told my parents I didn't want to be a part of their religion, and they said they didn't really want to have me under their roof if I wasn't going to believe what they did. So I left." he sounds in denial.

"You know that's getting kicked out, right?"

"No. It was my choice to leave, I didn't want us being at each other's throats all the time so I left before our relationship could be damaged." I nodded accepting his answer, "There's something I've been holding off on for a while, mostly because I thought you didn't like me, but now I'm sure that's not true-"

"No, it was true." Brendon paused, surprised by my intrusion.

"Eh-" he was stunned, only for a second, "well it's not anymore right?" I shrugged.

"Guess not." I mumbled, looking down at my lap.

"Okay, so, what's up with you and your dad?" my body stiffened instinctively at his mention, before relaxing just as fast. "I know you think I don't notice things, a lot of people think I'm stupider than I actually am-they underestimate me-must be the ADHD label."

"I never underestimated you, I just hoped you were too stupid to see things, but you always saw past certain parts of me. That's why I didn't like you." I chuckled at my pathetic reasoning, how could you dislike someone for seeing the truth?

"Oh so I'm right?" he shifted his eyes to take a look at me without having to move too much.

"About?" I asked, not sure if he was referring to my not liking him, or the problem with my dad.

"Your dad, you guys aren't doing so good."

"About as bad as any other kid who wants to jump into a risky career." Brendon knows I'm hiding a big chunk of it, but he doesn't question any further. Instead he talks about possible ideas for the album's sound.

*  *  *

I dropped out and Brendon graduated, the label wanted us to start in April but the guys and I agreed that June would be better. Brendon and I have been working on the album, now that school is done for him, he has the time to work with me on the production. I have seven more songs written, we've been going back and forth with the guitar and drums, trying to find the ideal sound.

"What about this?" asked Brendon playing a tune on his guitar.

"Yeah, but maybe…" I held my hands out, waiting for Brendon to hand me the guitar. Once he did, I replayed the tune, changing a few of the chords. He nodded thoughtfully. Is it normal for someone to change so drastically?

When outside, if anyone were to ask me to describe Brendon, I'd say he's annoying, friendly, energetic, mercurial, weird, unfocused…but in here, during practices, it's a whole different story. He's focused, sharp, determined, and his creativity shines. He's extraordinary through and through, god I hope the public doesn't compare us as much I do.

"Yeah, I like it." I smiled at him, it's something I've been doing more often. I guess my dad was bringing me down, I always tried to brush it off as less than it was, but now that I'm out, I feel…sane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it's been a while since I've updated, I'm sorry about that(if anyone actually cares). I had a good reason...I was writing another story that I just might post on here. It's a zombie story with most of the emo bands, 'cause duh who else. 
> 
> If you'd actually be interested in reading that, let me know...anyways here's a chapter, hope you enjoyed it, I'm a little on the fence about it, but I needed to move on to the music creation and stuff, which I've started writing already. Yay! Also, sorry if it's a bit shorter than the rest. 
> 
> Well, until next time my lovelies(^-^)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Ryden fic, let me know what you think


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